


Time for You and Time for Me

by 27dragons



Series: The Love Song of J. Buchanan Barnes [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottoming from the Top, Caretaking, M/M, Massage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Negotiation, Rimming, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3653226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not the <em>only</em> important thing. I can't be."</p><p>Steve shrugged uneasily. Bucky was the <em>most</em> important thing, and that was what mattered, wasn't it? But Bucky seemed to be trying to get Steve to admit that there were other things in his life. "I just left you for -- what was it? three days? four? -- to go fight another alien invasion," he pointed out. "You're not the only important thing."</p><p>Bucky snorted. "Oh, saving the world gets a mention, too; that's nice."</p><p>Frustration flooded him, hot and restless. "Well, what do you want me to say?" Steve demanded.</p><p>"I want you to say that <em>you</em> are important!" Bucky exploded, waving his hands, then visibly restrained himself, pulled himself in tighter and lowered his voice if not his intensity. "I want you to realize that you can't make <em>me</em> happy while <em>you're</em> sad, and that if you'd grow a pair and <em>talk to me</em> then we could probably both have what we want!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The situation at the opening probably won't make much sense if you haven't read [Part 6: And Would It Have Been Worth It, After All](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3562283).

Three times in the past two weeks, Bucky had come to Steve for orders, kneeling and offering up a coil of rope on open palms and whispering a shaky, "Please, I need--"

Steve had done it, of course. But though Bucky had sagged in relief with each loop of the soft rope around his limbs, he'd remained subdued, and seemed to be accepting it as necessary maintenance rather than an act of joy or tenderness.

Afterward, he'd thanked Steve quietly and retreated to the isolation of his room.

Bucky had called Dr. Tranh almost every day, but Steve always excused himself so he wouldn't give in to the temptation to listen in. He'd half-expected another one of her lectures at Bucky's weekly appointments, but both times she had greeted Steve calmly, asked how he was doing, and nodded at his rote response.

Steve had made sure Bucky was taking care of himself -- eating and resting and keeping clean. (Steve had almost suggested bathing again -- there was almost no danger of triggers there -- but they'd enjoyed that together so often, Steve didn't want to tarnish those happy memories now with the guilt and despair hanging between them now.) Bucky followed those rules without complaint, but without any apparent pleasure, either.

So when the Avengers Emergency alarm sounded, Steve was almost grateful.

Bucky emerged from his room while Steve was getting dressed. He stood in the doorway to Steve's bedroom, metal hand curled around his human arm, and listened silently as Tony's voice poured out of Steve's phone, outlining the situation. The transmission was filled with whirring and clanking that suggested Tony wasn't wasting any time suiting up, either.

"I've got the bike," Steve said when Tony had finished. "I'll meet the others at the hangar in fifteen minutes. You and Thor are our fastest fliers; you should go ahead and scout out what you can."

"Way ahead of you, Cap," Tony promised. "Thor's already out the door; I'm airborne in the next two minutes."

"Tell Thor to put his damn comm on, then, when you catch up to him," Steve said. "Both of you be careful. And save a few for the rest of us."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Tony replied, uncharacteristically sober. "See you on the ground." He signed off with a click.

Steve started tugging on the outer layer of his armor as fast as he could. Bucky hovered in the doorway for another few seconds, then seemed to come to a decision. He came in and started helping Steve with the armor.

"That sounded pretty bad," Bucky said as he adjusted the shield's harness.

"Bad enough," Steve agreed. "This one may be a few days."

"Yeah." Bucky didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Buck, take care of yourself, okay?"

Bucky nodded and picked up the shield from its resting place by the door, offering it to Steve wordlessly.

Steve swung it into place and moved his arms to make certain everything had settled properly. He looked at Bucky, who was staring resolutely at the floor now.

Damn it, it didn't matter if they were arguing; Steve could _not_ walk out the door and into battle without making sure he'd said the most important thing. He reached out, cupping Bucky's jaw and cheek.

Bucky looked up at him, startled and then guardedly hopeful.

"I love you," Steve said. "I always have. I always will. I just... I need you to know that. No matter what, Buck."

Bucky's eyes softened and he flung his arms around Steve's waist. "Love you too," he said hoarsely. "Even when you're being a dumbass." He squeezed Steve tighter, and tighter still. "When you get back, we've gotta _talk_ about this, you understand me? I can't... Can't live like this. Something's gotta be done."

Steve's stomach clenched with dread, but Bucky was right. "Yeah," he sighed. He pushed his face into Bucky's hair and breathed in the warm scent of it, wishing he could take it with him. "Whatever you need, Buck, I'll--"

"Shut up and go save the world," Bucky said, releasing him. "I'll be here when you get back."

***

His asthma was acting up again. His left lung felt like it was full of sand, scraping with every breath, and his ribs hurt besides; they must'a done a real number on him at the... in the...

Steve dragged in a wheezing breath and jolted awake in the future, to his apartment in Manhattan, to the framed photo of him and Bucky at the Avengers' Fourth of July picnic last year, to the sketch of Bucky and Natasha that Steve had drawn last month, to--

\--to a lung that still wouldn't inflate properly when Steve drew on it. He tried to sit up, but leaning on his arm sent a lance of pain up the center of it that was all too familiar. Steve fell back to the bed with a curse that was only half as loud as it should have been because he couldn't summon enough breath for volume, and even that set him off coughing.

And _fuck_ but that hurt like _knives_ , even worse than the arm.

The door opened while Steve was still desperately trying to rein in the coughing. Bucky came in and wordlessly lifted Steve into a sitting position, which helped, and handed him a glass of water, which helped more. When Steve was back to simply wheezing for breath, Bucky dragged over the extra pillows and helped Steve shift so they were propping him up a little. "Thanks," he managed.

"Mm," Bucky responded, and now that Steve could see his face, his lips were pressed together. "You remember anything yet?"

"Remember? Uh..." Steve searched his memories. "Got the call, went out with the team. We got Thor's report, and then... Sam dropped me in the hotzone and I..." He frowned. What _had_ happened after that? He didn't recall any of the fighting, nor the ride home. Not at all. "Did-- Is everyone okay?"

Bucky snorted. "Well, you're getting closer to it," he said repressively. "Last night you didn't get as far as Thor's report. Everyone else is fine. Or at least, they're all better off than you." Before Steve could ask, Bucky volunteered, "Your arm is broken in four places, your lung is punctured, and you have two broken ribs and three cracked ones. At least, that was the count when they brought you in. Might've healed up some last night."

Well, that explained all the pain and the trouble breathing. "Okay," Steve rasped. "Did we-- Did it work?"

"Do you think you'd have let them bring you home if the fight wasn't over?" Bucky demanded. "Goddamn martyr."

"Are you... mad at me? For something I can't even remember doing?"

"Seems only fair," Bucky said, "since you were beating yourself up for something _I_ couldn't remember."

_That_ , unfortunately, hadn't been forgotten. Steve groaned. "Are we really gonna fight about it now?"

"Nope," Bucky said. "You're going to drink this water and take these pills, and then you're going the hell back to sleep."

"Bucky--"

"Shut up, Steve," Bucky snapped. "Had to argue like hell to get them to leave you with me instead of taking you to the damn hospital, so you _owe me_ , you got it? You're going to lay the hell down and do what I say until you're better."

Steve glared, but Bucky glared right back. Finally, Steve let his gaze slide sideways and he held out his hand, palm up. "Fine," he growled. "Give me the damn pills."

One of them he recognized as a tranquilizer. He took that first, and by the time he'd finished with the others, his lid were growing heavy again.

***

"Ow, ow, _ow_ , not so tight!" Steve hissed.

"You ain't giving the orders right now, Captain Cinderblock," Bucky growled. "Like a dumbass, you let a goddamn building fall on you, and so you are going to shut up and let me change your bandages. And then I'm going to take your goddamn phone away so you stop bothering Tasha and Tony and whoever the hell else you're pestering who hasn't gotten irritated enough to complain to me about it, because you are _benched_ , you dumbass. Until you can sit up on your own and punch something without having your arm re-fracture and _breathe properly_ , all you're gonna do is whatever I goddamn well _tell you to do_."

Steve's first impulse was to argue, but the hard stare Bucky was giving him made something flop in Steve's stomach. He swallowed his arguments, then nodded shortly. "Fine. Whatever." He held out the arm he'd pulled out of Bucky's grasp so Bucky could re-wrap its bandages.

Bucky's eyebrows lifted, and he smiled, just a little, as he resumed his task. Steve noted that he did, in fact, make the wrapping a little looser this time. "You'd think by now you'd be used to me taking care of your punk ass," Bucky muttered.

"Well, you were a little busy for most of this last half-century or so, Buck; I had to learn to do it myself."

That startled an actual laugh out of Bucky, and he leaned over to kiss the top of Steve's head. "You've been doing a shit job of it then," he said, and it sounded like he was trying to be grouchy, but not quite getting there. "I'm taking it over again."

"I'm getting that," Steve agreed. "Except I thought I was the one who was supposed to take care of you now."

Bucky smoothed over the bandage before taping it into place. "See, you say that kind of thing, and I wonder if you're the one with the fucked up memory. Because I've always needed your orders, and you've always needed me to take care of you." He helped ease the arm back into its sling, then looked up to meet Steve's eyes with a sigh. "It's not just about what I need, Steve. You have needs, too."

Steve looked away, uncomfortable. "I'm all right. I keep telling you--"

"Christ, you are thicker than Stark's ego, some days," Bucky groused. "It's _not_ all right. Even Dr. Tranh could tell you weren't all right, and she's not even _your_ doctor. She tried to tell you, you were going about it all wrong."

Steve frowned. "No, she didn't. She didn't say--"

"She _did_. You just weren't listening."

"Well, then she was too subtle for me," Steve snapped. He wanted to fold his arms belligerently, but the ache in his still-healing forearm reminded him that he couldn't. He settled for just glaring. "Guess that's why she's not my therapist."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "If you _had_ a therapist, I'd let that go. But since you don't, I'm gonna spell it all out for you."

Steve worked hard not to roll _his_ eyes. "Fine, Mr. Smarty-pants, go ahead."

Bucky sat on the side of the bed. "This ain't me, this is mostly Dr. Tranh," he said repressively. "And she _is_ a smarty-pants. I'm just putting it in words you might actually listen to. You think you can manage that, for once?" He eyed Steve sternly until Steve waved a hand to tell him to go on. "Okay, so..." Bucky paused, apparently gathering his thoughts, and then said, "Sometimes when a marriage is failing, the parents are afraid to put the kids through the pain of a divorce. So they stay together and try to keep their problems under wraps, for the sake of the kids. But really, it'd be better for the kids to just get it over with, than to spend years and years under the shadow of this... toxic relationship."

Steve stared at Bucky. His limbs felt cold. "Are... are you saying we have a toxic relationship?" he whispered.

Bucky frowned in confusion, and then his eyes widened with surprised comprehension. "No!" he said hastily. "Fuck, no, Steve, I-- It's a _metaphor_ , Christ. You're the parents -- both of them together -- and I'm the kids, here."

Bucky was about the furthest thing from a kid that Steve could imagine. "How are you the kids?"

"Because you're trying to protect me--"

"And I keep making things worse," Steve finished, grimacing.

Bucky smacked Steve's leg. "Stop putting words in my mouth," he said. "What I was going to say is that you're trying to protect me from things I can't really be protected from. Doc Tranh _told_ you that, over and over: I'm gonna get triggered. Bad shit's gonna happen. And it's hard for me to move past it when you insist on dwelling on every little thing!"

"It wasn't _little_ , Buck."

"But it happened to _me_. And that's why you're the parents in the metaphor. You don't want to see me suffering, and I appreciate that, I do. But you're trying to do something that's impossible, and you need to stop, because it's actually worse to drag it out. Just... let me get through it and out the other side, and I'll be okay. Your guilt at causing the pain is lasting longer than the pain itself, and that ain't healthy, Stevie, not for either of us."

Steve stared at Bucky in surprise. "Dr. Tranh said that?" he said dumbly.

"More or less," Bucky said. "She's the one who came up with the divorce metaphor, at least. Wasn't something I'd'a thought of -- wasn't exactly something we saw much, growin' up."

"Yeah," Steve agreed. His thoughts were buzzing, too varied, changing too often, to pinpoint. "That Mrs. Kocek on the floor above us, though, she probably should've left, though, huh?"

Bucky's lips quirked faintly, as if he was amused at Steve's utterly irrelevant contribution. "Probably," he said. "But once that metaphor got settled in my head, I started seeing other ways it fit, too."

Steve was actually curious now, in a sort of horrified way. "Like what?"

"Well, the one I just mentioned about the guilt was my thought," Bucky said, "because you got me sidetracked. Her original metaphor was supposed to be about you hiding your needs from me, which is why I brought it up in the first place."

"I'm not hiding--"

"Yes, you are," Bucky said firmly. "Maybe from yourself as much as from me, but there are things you need that you're not getting, not now. It feels like you've got this... this timeline in your head, where _first_ you're gonna fix me, and _then, maybe_ you'll be able to ask for what _you_ want. Just like those parents in the metaphor: When the kids are all grown up and out of the house, then we'll be able to work on _us_. Except hell, even the metaphor parents have it better, because the kids _are_ eventually going to grow up. I'm not ever gonna be all the way fixed, you know that, right? And in the meantime, there's this huge hole in the middle of our relationship where what _you_ want is missing."

Steve was already shaking his head. "No, Bucky, that's not how I think."

Bucky gave him a flat look. "No? So you've never had a thought that started with: 'Maybe when Bucky's feeling better...'? Tell me that's never crossed your mind."

Steve opened his mouth to deny it, but stopped. He tightened his jaw. "Tell me that when you first came back, you were in the right place to hear what I wanted," he dared.

"Of course I wasn't," Bucky said. "But here's the thing, Steve: you _still_ haven't told me what you want, and up until a couple of weeks ago, I _thought_ we were having a normal, grown-up relationship, or something pretty close to it."

"I--" Steve floundered. "I want to _help you_ , Buck. That's all that's important to me!"

"No, it ain't. Fuckin-- _Look_ at me." Steve turned reluctant eyes back toward Bucky. "Something's been missing, this whole time, and I haven't been able to pin it down. I thought it was me. Something I'd lost and hadn't been able to get back. And I've been so desperate to find it for you, but you wouldn't tell me what it was you were needing, and... And then this happened." Bucky waved an aimless arm around the room.

"But I think I finally figured out where we went wrong. I know I'm important to you," he said earnestly. "I'm still not sure I deserve it, but--"

Steve's innards lurched. "Of course you deserve it!"

Bucky heaved a sigh. "I know you think so. _But_ ," he continued, overriding Steve's automatic argument, "I'm not the _only_ important thing. I can't be."

Steve shrugged uneasily. Bucky was the _most_ important thing, and that was what mattered, wasn't it? But Bucky seemed to be trying to get Steve to admit that there were other things in his life. "I just left you for -- what was it? three days? four? -- to go fight another alien invasion," he pointed out. "You're not the only important thing."

Bucky snorted. "Oh, saving the world gets a mention, too; that's nice."

Frustration flooded him, hot and restless. "Well, what do you want me to say?" Steve demanded.

"I want you to say that _you_ are important!" Bucky exploded, waving his hands, then visibly restrained himself, pulled himself in tighter and lowered his voice if not his intensity. "I want you to realize that you can't make _me_ happy while _you're_ sad, and that if you'd grow a pair and _talk to me_ then we could probably both have what we want!"

"I don't understand," Steve gritted out, because he _didn't_. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the more I thought about it, the more I realized we have _complementary needs_ , dumbass. Always have. The way we were, back before the war? It felt right, then, because we fit together. You had to prove you could handle yourself, and I needed someone to hold me together so I didn't fly apart. You needed someone to take care of you, and I needed someone to coddle now and again."

Steve had not liked to admit that he'd ever needed caring for, before the war, but if he were being honest, it was an accurate summation. "But now--"

"But now," Bucky continued, ignoring Steve's interruption, "I need a mission, I need a target, I need orders -- and you need to see me safe and healthy, to know I'm... I'm _yours_ , that I'm not going away again."

_Safe and healthy,_ he said, as if those minimum survival standards were enough. "I need more than that," Steve said, throat tight. "I need to see you happy, too. No, don't shrug it off. It's important, Buck."

Bucky sighed and brushed his knuckles across Steve's cheek. "Okay," he said. "If you say so."

"I do."

"I watch you, you know. You still act like you need to prove yourself," Bucky continued, a little softer now. "God knows why, but I guess all the muscles in the world don't make up for spending more than half your life as the runt of the litter. And I'm happy enough to take your proving, still, because it still scratches my itch for orders, for knowing where I stand and where I fit.

"But you've bitten off more than you can chew, like you always do, leading this pack of idiots. I can see you struggling -- not with the command, you've always been brilliant at that -- but with carrying the _weight_ of it. And I have this ache, this, this need to _help you_. You don't need me to stroll in and rescue you from bullies these days, and I can't be your second-in-command anymore, but what I _can_ do is take care of you, give you some time, once in a while, when you can put it down and not have to think about it."

Steve stared at him. "How do you expect to do that?"

Bucky turned on the bed, swinging his knee over Steve's legs so he could sit on Steve's thighs, and twined the fingers of their good hands together. "Hydra broke me into pieces and then put me back together so that I can't function properly without orders," he said softly. His voice trembled a little, and then firmed again. "But they couldn't make me completely useless. They needed me to lead teams sometimes." His eyes flicked up to Steve's face. "I can take command if I'm doing it under orders."

Steve blinked in surprise. "But if I'm the one _giving_ the orders," he started, uncertain.

"Doesn't matter," Bucky said. "Answer's been under our noses all along, you know. I've had standing orders from you since the start. And the baths? That's a step the right way, too. And we've been too dumb to realize it."

Steve stared at Bucky in surprise. "You're saying... we should do more things like that," he said. "You taking care of me, because I've told you to."

"Because you _want_ me to." Bucky slid a finger down Steve's bandaged arm, light enough not to hurt. "Because you _need_ me to."

It came to Steve then, not as a lightbulb flash of comprehension but a slowly-expanding ember of warmth and understanding. They'd always functioned best when they were working as a team, and taking care of each other: Steve's tetchy orders and Bucky's agreeable mother-henning; Steve's unconventional tactics and Bucky's fine eye for detail and planning; Steve's strength and Bucky's tenacity.

Bucky smiled, seeing Steve's eyes widen, and then leaned into Steve's space. "I can even punish you when you think you need it. For instance, when you're feeling guilty for accidentally triggering me. And that way, you wouldn't have to punish yourself by letting a goddamn building fall on you."

Steve sniffed indignantly. "I did not _let_ a building fall on me because I wanted to be _punished_!"

"If you didn't do it on purpose, then it happened because you were still fretting too much to pay attention to the business at hand," Bucky shot back.

Steve wanted to protest that, too, but, in good conscience, he probably couldn't. "...Asshole," he grumbled.

Bucky grinned at that. "But I'm _your_ asshole," he said, and leaned even closer, his lips not quite brushing Steve's.

Steve couldn't help a huff of fond exasperation, even as he tipped his chin up to complete the kiss. "Always."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a week or so after Chapter 1, once Steve's all healed up.

Steve read the email three times, and by the time he'd finished the third review, he was ready to throw his tablet through the wall in anger. "Damned snake," he snarled. He stabbed at the button to reply, only remembering at the very last instant to not poke the screen so hard he cracked the glass.

"Mm?" Bucky was sitting on the floor, his head resting on Steve's knee, a book in one hand. "What's the fuss?"

"Ross found himself another Senator to bribe, apparently," Steve growled. He started tapping out a response, teeth grinding with frustration because he had to keep backing up and correcting typos caused by his large fingers interacting with the tiny screen keyboard. "They're making another play for Bruce."

"Well, they can't have him," Bucky said. He stretched up and twisted to look over Steve's elbow at the screen. "You know the keyboard is adjustable, right?"

"What?" Steve kept typing.

"It's a StarkPad," Bucky said patiently. "It's got a holo-keyboard. Totally customizable. Want me to show you?"

"No," Steve snapped. Bucky's effortless affinity for tech was just an irritant right now. Steve kept typing.

After a moment, Bucky said, "It's seven-thirty."

"What?"

"It's seven-thirty. In the evening. The Senator made sure his assistant sent that _just_ as he walked out the door for the night because he knew you weren't going to like it, and he didn't want to be available if you called."

Steve glanced up at the time, then shrugged. "I'm not calling. I'm emailing."

"Right, but my point is that he's not there. He won't be back until morning, at the earliest. You could put that away and calm down a little first. Relax a bit, take a little time to work out what you want to say. It won't make any difference to Bruce's case."

"How am I supposed to calm down and relax when this assclown is trying to attack my teammate and my friend?" Steve demanded.

Bucky knelt up, which was stretching his orders considerably, and leaned in to kiss Steve's cheek. "Look, if you respond right away, they'll know they've gotten to you. They're like sharks; you can't let 'em smell the blood. And they sent it _only_ to you, and that was for a reason. So you should not play the game the way they want you to. Instead, you should forward the mail to your second-in-command, who has a crack team of round-the-clock lawyers to put on it, and then schedule an Avengers meeting for after breakfast to discuss whatever they come up with.

"And then," Bucky concluded, sitting back down and folding his arms across Steve's knees, "you can take me to bed and let me distract you for the rest of the night." He grinned.

Steve's stomach flipflopped. He wasn't very good at politics -- he wasn't devious enough, wasn't a good enough liar, and didn't like playing games with lives at stake. But Bucky was right: he shouldn't try to answer this tonight.

He wasn't even truly angry, just disappointed and frustrated and worried, and the idea of letting Bucky take him out of his head for a while sounded... perfect. If it could be done.

"Yeah," he said. He pulled in a long breath and cancelled the half-written rant as he blew out slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment, then forwarded the Senator's email to Tony with a priority notice so JARVIS would make sure Tony actually looked at it in the next hour. Then he set up the meeting and sent that notice to everyone's phones.

By the time he'd finished, he was already feeling calmer. He set the tablet aside and caught Bucky watching him with a smile. "I keep tellin' ya," Bucky said, "it's no good to have a team if you don't share out the work."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve said, but he was smiling a little as he said it. "Get your lazy ass up off the floor."

Bucky snorted as he rolled to his feet and stretched. "Excuse you, my ass has been exactly where it belongs."

Steve pulled Bucky close for a kiss. "Yeah, you've been pretty good tonight," he admitted.

"I'm about to get better," Bucky promised, teasing his lips along the edge of Steve's jaw toward his throat.

"Smartass," Steve accused, but he tipped his head back to give Bucky better access. "Are you sure this is--"

"Stop." Bucky cupped Steve's face in his hands. "I don't even know what you were about to ask, but whatever it is, _don't_. Yes, I am fine to do this for you, and yes, I think it's a good idea. The world is not going to end if you take the night off, Stevie. At least," he amended, "if it looks like the world might end without you, they'll call. You need to relax, _right now_ , and let the rest of us handle things for a little while."

"I know," Steve sighed. "I know. It's just hard to... let go."

"I know," Bucky crooned. He slipped his fingers back into Steve's hair. "So here's what's going to happen: unless you need to safeword out? You don't get to talk. At all. You can moan, hiss, whine, growl, cry, or sigh, but no words allowed."

"Bucky--"

"Ah-ah!" Bucky held up one finger, smug as a cat in the cream, then leaned in to kiss Steve, slow and sweet. "No talking," he said softly. "My turn to take care of you, baby, but I can't do that if you're jabbering about how guilty you feel about it. Got it?"

Steve started to answer, then closed his mouth and nodded instead. Bucky's eyes crinkled in a smile, and Steve's stomach curled into a knot. It wasn't an unpleasant knot, not like the one that had appeared when he'd been reading the Senator's email. This was a knot of anticipation, of joyful challenge.

"Good," Bucky purred. He kissed Steve again, then pulled away. "I want you to go on in the bedroom, strip down, and lay on the bed, on your stomach."

Steve started to make a sarcastic comment about moving a little quickly, but snapped his teeth shut before the second syllable could escape.

Bucky grinned. "Harder than you thought, to keep your sass locked down, ain't it?" He patted Steve's bottom. "Go on, darlin'. I'll be along in a minute."

Steve shot Bucky a dirty look, but he went, because that was easier than arguing, and it wasn't like he _didn't_ want to be naked on his bed with Bucky.

Maybe that was the key, he thought as he took off his clothes. If he couldn't talk without breaking the rules, then he had to decide what was important enough to warrant breaking the rules, and let everything else... go.

If he could.

He tossed his clothes into the hamper and stretched out on the bed, enjoying the smooth, cool feel of the sheet against his skin even though he wasn't tired at all.

Bucky came in after only a minute or two, carrying a couple of bottles of water and their phones. "Tony texted you, said he's on it," he reported. "Thought you'd like to know."

That did ease Steve's concern slightly. He nodded, hoping his expression conveyed his gratitude.

"I told him thanks and said not to bother us unless it was urgent." Bucky grinned and set everything on the dresser. "I switched both phones to silent, but you know if there's an emergency, that'll override it." He sat on the side of the bed and stroked his fingers through Steve's hair. "So you are not being irresponsible. Responsibilities are being taken care of. I know that's important to you."

Steve let himself relax just another fraction. Bucky was so good to him, trying to alleviate his fretting. He wanted to be able to just forget everything for a while, to let Bucky take care of everything, even if only for a night. He wasn't sure if he _could_ \-- but god, he wanted to.

Bucky was rummaging in the nightstand drawer. Steve almost pointed out that the lube was right on top, but remembered at the last second to keep his mouth shut. Bucky would find it, and Steve didn't have to worry about it. He could just lie here and wait. Steve let his eyes fall closed, breathing out on a sigh.

"Aw, baby," Bucky said, "you look so sweet like that." Bucky's warm hand stroked lightly down Steve's back as if he was a cat, following the curve of his spine, then trailing over his ass. "God's my witness, I wish I could keep you like this forever." Steve felt a soft puff of warm air an instant before Bucky kissed Steve's shoulder. "Okay, Stevie, I need you to lift up your hips for me, all the way off the bed, just for a couple of seconds."

Steve opened his eyes as he lifted, curious, and saw Bucky spreading a thick towel under him. Bucky caught him looking, and grinned.

"Make cleanup easier," he said, and Steve snorted a laugh. "Okay, back down," Bucky said after he'd smoothed the towel flat. It wasn't as smooth and cool as the sheet, but it was soft.

"All right, here's what we're doing," Bucky said, going back to petting Steve's back. "I'm gonna do everything I can to help you relax, and you're going to let me. No talking, still. I'm gonna move you if I need to, and I don't want you to try to help.  I don't need you to be completely still -- you don't have to fight every little squirm and wiggle -- I just want you to relax and let me do what I'm gonna do. Got that?"

Steve nodded, and only then was surprised that he hadn't had to think about not talking.

Bucky stood up, and Steve watched him get undressed. Bucky noticed, and he didn't exactly make it into a _show_ , but he turned in slow circles so Steve could see, and teased the removal of each item a bit.

Steve smiled fondly and shook his head, but kept watching, because he'd never get over how beautiful Bucky was.

Undressed, Bucky climbed back up on the bed and pushed Steve's legs apart until he could sprawl between them. "I know what you're thinking, Stevie," Bucky said, "but it's not like that." The cap of the lube bottle made a snick in the quiet room, and Bucky said, "Well, it _is_ like that, obviously, but not really, not yet. Just... Stop thinking, okay?"

Steve couldn't help laughing at Bucky's mild fluster, a rich chuckle that made him feel lighter, almost dizzy. Bucky grumbled, but didn't swat Steve's ass the way Steve probably would have done if their positions had been reversed. Bucky's fingers carefully spreading him open and the cool slick of lube against Steve's hole stifled his laughter far more effectively, anyway. He hadn't been particularly aroused before, but heat flooded him now, and he could feel the rush of his filling cock as it rubbed against the towel.

"This's just a little appetizer," Bucky said, pushing in just a bit, just enough to draw the focus of Steve's attention. "Just gonna get you started a little." He worked his finger in further, and Steve hissed at the burn. "Okay, baby, hang on." Bucky pulled out and added more lube and worked it in slowly, pushing gently at the tight ring of muscle until it finally gave in and relaxed. "There you are," Bucky said, "that's it, so good." He kept working until he had two fingers in all the way to the knuckle. He pushed and twisted until Steve gasped at the brush against his prostate. "Yeah," Bucky said, "That's it, right there, huh?" He did it again, and Steve shivered with reaction.

But instead of beginning to thrust and scissor to stretch him, Bucky's fingers pulled free. Before Steve could look around in confusion, he felt a hard, cool pressure. "Shhh," Bucky soothed, petting Steve's lower back. "You can take this, it ain't so big. Just a little plug to help keep you relaxed and open for later."

Steve let himself whine a little at the thought. Bucky got it worked in a little ways, added more lube, and began to pump it in and out until Steve started to rock back into it. Then Bucky pushed it home -- it certainly didn't _feel_  little -- and let it go.

Steve rolled his hips, trying to get used to the strange sensation. It wasn't _quite_ long enough to reach his prostate, and he wriggled, trying to work it deeper.

"Great good lord," Bucky said. "Now _that_ is a pretty sight. And we're not even really started." His hands laid on Steve's lower back and slid slowly up. The metal hand was nearly as warm as the flesh one; he must have been keeping it tucked under his body to heat. Just when Steve thought Bucky was going to get to the end of his comfortable reach, he shifted, leaning forward and moving so he was straddling Steve's hips, almost sitting on Steve's ass. Every small movement made the plug shift, and a brief whimper escaped Steve's throat.

Bucky's hands slid all the way up to Steve's shoulders, then started kneading at the thick muscle there. "C'mon, Stevie," Bucky said, "try to relax a little." One hand lifted, and a moment later Steve felt the slightly cool sensation of oil being dribbled down his back.

Bucky slid his hand through the oil, spreading it around, and resumed massaging Steve's shoulders and back. "That's it, baby," he said as he worked, "that's it, just let it all go. I'm gonna take care of everything, you know I am. Always taken care of you. Always gonna. You know I'd do anything for you, Stevie, anything at all." His hands smoothed down Steve's back and back up, thumbs dragging, stretching the muscles and teasing them into loosening. He rolled his knuckles against the sides of Steve's spine, pulling and pushing, twisting nearly to the point of pain, but then he'd let go and the muscle would twitch and spasm, the area flooding with heat.

Steve was letting out a quiet moan with nearly every breath. Bucky's hands were like magic, working a miracle, transmuting stone into putty. Steve lost track of time, wasn't even really listening to Bucky's chatter, just lazily tracking it as a litany of love and devotion. He wanted to tell Bucky how he felt, wanted to make sure Bucky held Steve's love in return, but he wasn't supposed to talk, so he stayed silent, soaking in Bucky's affection and touch.

He might have drifted off and dozed under the rhythmic motion and the heat, but the plug in his ass kept shifting, distracting him from complete oblivion, reminding him that there was more to come, heightening his anticipation.

Bucky was leaning down, then, kissing Steve's shoulders and neck. Steve started to lift up, to twist and seek Bucky's mouth with his own, but Bucky just leaned lightly on his shoulders. "Shhh, no, Stevie, just relax, baby, I've got you. Just lay still and let me take care of you." When Steve's head dropped back to the pillow, Bucky went back to kissing him.

He kissed Steve's skin, hot and open-mouthed, licked and nibbled, apparently determined to have his mouth on every inch of Steve's skin, working downward torturously slow, his hands still kneading and stroking. When he reached the small of Steve's back, his right hand crept down the crack of Steve's ass, making no attempt to be subtle, and touched the base of the plug, pushing it deeper.

Steve gasped and pushed back into it, struggling between the desire for sensation and Bucky's admonition to be still. He wanted to beg for more, but he couldn't talk, could only moan with need.

Bucky's mouth was moving over the curve of Steve's ass, worshiping the skin, and he had hold of the plug's base and was thrusting it in and out, only slightly, just enough to drive Steve mad. Bucky licked slowly down Steve's crease, tongue flickering over the stretched flesh around the plug, and Steve whimpered and squirmed, pushing back into it, begging wordlessly.

"Oh, baby," Bucky said, his breath hot against Steve's sensitive skin. "Baby, you're so gorgeous like this, you have no idea. Could love you like this forever." He licked again, more firmly, and Steve moaned encouragement. Bucky pulled the plug out, nearly entirely, only the last half-inch of its rounded tip holding Steve's hole open. Bucky licked all around it, holding Steve's hips still with his left hand so they couldn't buck and twist like Steve wanted, and just when Steve thought he couldn't take any more, Bucky started moving the plug again, fucking Steve with it now, smooth and fast and relentless.

It wasn't enough, it wasn't _nearly_ enough, and Steve was writhing, fighting Bucky's hold to rub his aching cock against the bed.

"You wanna come, baby?" Bucky asked. His tender, solicitous voice was at odds with the merciless pounding of the plug, and Steve choked and nodded, frantic for relief. "Stevie, baby," Bucky sighed, "this is all for you. You come whenever you want to, darling. You go ahead and let it go."

Steve keened and suddenly Bucky wasn't holding him still, wasn't preventing his movement, and he rolled his hips hard, feeling Bucky's tongue and breath on his hole, grinding against the soft plush of the towel under him, and he came hard, his voice spiraling up into a desperate, thready whine as his balls emptied.

"There you go," Bucky said. He pulled the plug free and dropped it. Steve had time for a handful of gasping breaths before Bucky started licking at Steve's hole again, more urgently than before.

Steve whimpered, oversensitive, but Bucky didn't let up. He slipped a finger into Steve's ass alongside his tongue and started pumping it slowly.

"Look at you," Bucky whispered between licks. "So beautiful, so needy. Gonna get you off on just my fingers, this time," he promised. A cool sensation suggested a fresh squirt of lube, and another finger worked its way into Steve.

Steve couldn't decide whether he needed _more_ or _less_ , and in a burst of understanding and gratitude, realized that he didn't _have_ to decide: he could just take what Bucky gave him, accepting it all, letting it wash through him. His whole body shivered and shuddered, and then went limp.

"Oh, that's perfect, Stevie," Bucky said, and scissored his fingers, stretching Steve wide. "You're so gorgeous. I'm so lucky to have you, baby, so lucky, you just don't know."

Steve's cock was filling again, slightly sore but no less eager for it, and he grunted and began to roll his hips again, pushing back into Bucky's fingers.

The metal hand came down on the small of Steve's back, not restraining him, just resting there. "Ready for another?" Bucky asked, but didn't wait for Steve to respond for working a third finger in.

The three fingers were wider than the plug had been, and Steve floated through a gentle burn, but Bucky was moving slow and careful now, teasing as much as giving Steve time to adjust. By the time the ache was gone, leaving only pleasure in its wake, Steve was panting and half-desperate.

Bucky pushed deep, then, fingers sparking against Steve's prostate, making his cock jump and pulse in ways the plug hadn't been able to. A low, long groan emerged from Steve's throat. Bucky kept pushing, not pulling out at all, really, just pressing deep, over and over, whispering sweet and dirty encouragement until Steve's balls began to ache and tighten. Steve bit his lip to keep from shouting Bucky's name as he came again.

Steve had barely begun to recover his breath from that when Bucky shifted again, fingers sliding free. Steve moaned softly, not wanting it to stop despite the painful zinging of his overstimulated nerves. But then Bucky was carefully lifting Steve up onto his knees. Steve tried to shuffle up into position.

"Shh, baby, no," Bucky said. "Don't move; I've got you. Let me move you. All you have to do is let me."

Steve nodded and let himself go limp; he was so wrung out that his muscles felt like rubber anyway. Carefully, slowly, kissing his hips and his thighs and his sides, Bucky finished lifting Steve up onto his knees.

Then Bucky's cock was pressing against the now-lax ring of Steve's hole, and Bucky's hand was moving over Steve's back, slow, long, soothing strokes. "You doing all right, baby? Still green?" he asked softly, and Steve nodded. "Is this okay?" Bucky asked, pressing into Steve, not hard enough to breach Steve's body, just a tease of pressure to punctuate his question.

Steve nodded harder, almost frantic with wanting. He would beg, if he were allowed to talk, but all he could do was pant and whine, open-mouthed, and nod, pushing back against Bucky, hoping.

"Shh, all right, Stevie," Bucky said, and that roving hand came to rest on Steve's hip, holding him steady. "All right, I'm gonna give it to you. Just you relax, doll."

Bucky was pushing into him, then, so slow it was almost torture, thumbs gently stroking the soft skin just over Steve's hips, soothing the ache that Steve desperately wanted to feel all at once, desperate to have Bucky _in him_. He panted and squirmed, but Bucky's grip on his hips was like iron. Somehow, that only made it all feel better.

Finally, _finally_ , Bucky was in him all the way, Bucky's hips pushing up against Steve's ass. Bucky released Steve's hips and curled forward over him, and Steve let out a shuddering sigh of relief. This was where he wanted to be: curled into Bucky's heat, their bodies pressed so close he could barely tell where their boundaries were.

"Stevie, god, god, baby, you feel so good," Bucky groaned into Steve's ear. "Love you so much, baby, gonna make you feel so good."

Steve wasn't supposed to move, but he couldn't stop himself; he dragged one arm in so he could reach up and tangle his fingers in Bucky's hair.

Bucky didn't call him on it, though, just shivered a little and kissed Steve's neck and shoulder. "So good." Whether it meant that Steve was being good, or that he felt good to Bucky, or that Bucky was going to make him feel good wasn't clear. It didn't matter, anyway. They were all true.

When Bucky began to move in him, Steve nearly sobbed with relief. It felt so perfect, so right, he didn't even care that he probably wasn't going to be able to come again so soon. He just wanted to feel Bucky in him, as deep as he could go, wanted to feel Bucky's heat and stuttering pleasure.

Bucky, too, seemed to feel overwhelmed. He was gasping into Steve's neck, his words sweet and tender, sentimental in a way Bucky rarely let himself show.

Bucky shook his head when Steve started to release his hair. "Harder," he gasped. "Hold it tight."

Steve closed his fist and tugged on the hair until Bucky hissed. "Yes, Steve, god, yes, yes. I can't-- Steve, Stevie, love you, I'm... I'm..." He froze, for an instant, and then his cock pulsed as he came.

Steve pushed back into it, clenching down, trying to prolong Bucky's orgasm and its aftershocks. After a moment, though, Bucky went limp on top of him. Steve and let his own body fall flat, too, and Bucky huffed at the unexpected shift.

After a few minutes, he squirmed back out of Steve, and pulled the towel out from under him. He found a clean corner of it to clean them both up with, then dropped it on the floor beside the bed. He grabbed a bottle of water off the dresser and flopped back down beside Steve, who had been watching the whole process without moving.

"Mission accomplished?" Bucky asked, cracking the lid on his water and carefully tipping several swallows into his mouth before holding the bottle out for Steve to take.

"Mm," Steve agreed. The direct question, he thought hazily, probably meant that he could talk again, but he didn't really want to, yet. He laboriously rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow long enough to chug down some water.

As he dropped the empty bottle on the floor -- he'd pick it up in the morning -- he came out of the haze of pleasure enough to realize that it probably also meant that it was time for him to be in command again.

Steve thought about the way Bucky had made Steve pull on his hair, at the end there, and-- _oh_. He'd needed grounding, a reminder of his place, after so much time being the one in charge --  _and had gotten it_. It had worked. It had  _worked_ , and Steve was relaxed and satisfied and Bucky was watching Steve with a sleepy, contented smile.

They could make this work.

Steve reached out and curled his hand around Bucky's neck, stroking Bucky's jaw with his thumb. "All green?" he asked, voice slightly rough. "Anything you need?"

"I'm fine," Bucky said. "Better than fine. Green as I can be." He scooted closer, nudging with his knee until Steve threw a leg across Bucky's, not quite pinning him down but providing an anchor.

"Good," Steve said. He stretched his neck a little and kissed Bucky slow and soft. "Good," he murmured again, and let his eyes fall closed. "Love you."

"Love you too, baby." Bucky's hand curled around Steve's arm, warm and comforting. "Thank you for letting me help you."

"Was perfect," Steve managed. "Shut up an' go to sleep. Got a meeting in the morning."

"I'll make sure you're up for breakfast," Bucky promised.

"Go t'sleep, Bucky."

"Yes, sir."

**Author's Note:**

> THE END!
> 
> Super-special thanks to [capspatrioticpecs](http://capspatrioticpecs.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for inspiring the whole thing with their tag-meta about post-WS!subby!Bucky, even if this wasn't nearly what they had in mind. And as always, thanks to [captn-sara-holmes](http://captn-sara-holmes.tumblr.com) for beta-reading and encouragement.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [everyworldneedslove](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/)!


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